Cold Blood
by SparrowWriter64
Summary: Kitiara is given an interesting propostion from a mysterious man. Raistlin is after an extremely old and powerful magical artifact. Dalamar is desperate to save his Shalafi's life and will call in the only one who cares.
1. Chapter I

Disclaimer: I don't own DragonLance or any of the characters that appear in said series. I wish I did; I mean, really, who wouldn't want to own Dalamar and Raistlin?  
  
Cold Blood  
Chapter One  
  
Kitiara Uth Matar sat in the shadows of the corner and glared sullenly at her ale mug; her helmet lay at her feet. The other patrons, soldiers and mercenaries alike, leered in her direction. However, the glint of her highlord's armor and the look on her face kept them away. Their attention was soon drawn away from the brooding woman in the corner by the barmaids.  
  
He was late.  
  
True, Kitiara had arrived early, but he most definitely should have been here by now. Kitiara decided if he didn't show his face within the next quarter-hour, she would leave. She had better things to attend to and the tavern certainly wasn't worth staying in.  
  
One of the many taverns in Sanction, it was safe to say it was far from the best. Dirt and grime caked the floorboards, tables were stained, and Kitiara would rather eat dragon dung than the food. The few patrons it had attracted sat around, gossiping and swilling down the watery ale. Sitting alone in the corner reminded Kitiara of past memories when she sat in the corner of another inn with Caramon, Raistlin, Sturm, that little kender, his grumpy dwarf friend, Tanis...  
  
She shook her head firmly and gritted her teeth. Tanis was gone. He had left her for that elven wench. Kitiara had several other men to amuse her, so why did that half-elven bastard keep appearing in her mind's eye...?  
  
"Troubling thoughts, my dear?" a soft, rasping voice said from behind her.  
  
Kitiara spun around in her chair, her hand closing over the hilt of her sword. She hadn't seen anybody come near her. Yet there was a man (or rather, she assumed it was a man for the figure was cloaked and hooded) standing behind her chair, hands lightly resting on the back of it. She quickly scanned the bar room out of the corner of her eye; none of the patrons seemed to have noticed the man. Her attention returned to the newcomer as he pulled up a chair and sat down across from her.  
  
"Nothing that concerns you, mage," Kitiara replied coldly, spitting out the last word in disgust. She had been near her brother enough to recognize the aura of magical energy that now crackled around this man. Not as powerful as Raistlin's, to be sure, but there was power there nonetheless.  
  
The mage laughed and Kitiara could just imagine the sardonic smile that must be twitching his lips just now. "Very well. If the lady wishes to keep her thoughts secret, then I won't pry. Shall we discuss business, then?" Her curt nod gave him leave to continue. "I have a proposition for you, Dark Lady. A mission that, I believe, only you can fulfill. I need someone to be removed."  
  
Kitiara narrowed her eyes. "In other words, you wish me to assassinate your enemy. Hire some sell-sword if you wish for that kind of work to be done. I am not your lap dog, to be called upon when you need a disposal of someone." She bent down to pick up her dragon helm. "There is your answer. Now, I have better-"  
  
The hooded man was chuckling.  
  
It was a hoarse, dry chuckle that provided no warmth. It was the sort that sent chills down one's spine. Kitiara stopped and looked warily at the man, wondering what had caused his amusement. She did notice several patrons looking edgily in their direction. Inside, she hoped the mage would stop before onlookers became too curious and rumors spread.  
  
The hoarse chuckle died off and the man paused a few moments before speaking again. "Do not be so quick to dismiss my offer. This death could benefit us both. And, as I said before, it is my belief that only you can accomplish it."  
  
Despite what her mind told her, Kitiara was intrigued now. Well, it couldn't hurt to at least hear what he has to say, she thought. She lowered her dragon helm back to the floor and straightened up. "Fine. I'll hear what you have to say, but I'm not agreeing to anything. And tell me why I'm the only one who can kill this enemy of yours and how I would benefit from it."  
  
"Wise, very wise, mighty highlord. This 'enemy of mine' is also an enemy of yours. With him out of the way, your path to world dominance is clear."  
  
"Oh, and this will clear away the Knights that wait for the moment I step out of Sanction with my armies to finish me off?"  
  
"Help me and I will help you."  
  
Kitiara leaned back in her chair and ran her eyes over the mage. From what she could tell, he wasn't very muscular and was of average height. He wasn't frail like Raistlin, but then again, he was not Caramon's size. The man didn't look overly strong, but who could tell with mages?  
  
"So? What say you about my offer?" His voice grated into her thoughts. Kitiara detected a hint of impatience in his words. Her eyes narrowed; who was he to demand anything of her? "Tell me first who I am to 'dispose of'," she replied.  
  
"I believe you know him. A man by the name of Raistlin Majere."  
  
Kitiara gasped. "Y-you would have me kill my own brother?!"  
  
"Half-brother though, isn't he? With him out of the way, you will be the strongest being on Krynn. If he wanted the world, he would have it in an instant."  
  
"You think me cold-blooded enough to kill him?"  
  
"You had no qualms against leaving him to die before."  
  
Voices floated through Kitiara's mind. "C'mon! We need to get him out of there before the mob reaches him first!" That was Caramon's voice, she recognized. Then her own voice answered. "No! Leave him, Caramon! Didn't you see what he did? Don't you understand? He shouldn't have been able to cast that spell! But he did, and he's not even a full mage. Just leave him to die. He's too strong. Raistlin needs to die."  
  
Kitiara blinked back her look of confusion. That memory was from long ago, from a Harvest Home festival that seemed a life time ago. But only Caramon and herself were there at that time, so how...  
  
"How do you know that?" she demanded.  
  
"I know many things." From his tone of voice, Kitiara knew he was smiling at her ignorance. She ground her teeth, but let nothing show on her face. Kitiara didn't want to cause the mage any more amusement tonight.  
  
"He wouldn't hesitate to kill you. After all, he's killed his own twin twice in dreams and illusions. You, his half-sister, wouldn't cause him any grief."  
  
If the mage said any more, Kitiara wasn't listening. He had a point...Raistlin would have to be removed if she wanted Krynn. He had grown too strong for his own good. She had saved him as a baby, but there was always time to correct that mistake.  
  
"...He wouldn't be completely expecting an assassination attempt from you, so you're the best choice for this. Remember, help me and I'll help you."  
  
"I'll consider it," Kitiara said shortly. "How will I contact you again?"  
  
The mage nodded as if satisfied. "If you accept, just bring me a vial of his life-blood after you've killed him. I'll know when you wish to talk again." With that, he rose and tipped his head in Kitiara's direction. "Good day, Dark Lady." He turned to leave.  
  
"Wait!" Kitiara realized something. "Give me your name. I won't do any business for a name-less person."  
  
"...You may call me 'Beleg' if you wish," the mage said over his shoulder. Then he swept out of the tavern. All of the patrons stared; a few had the courage to look in Kitiara's direction, only to be turned away by her glare.  
  
"Beleg..." The name felt elvish to Kitiara.  
  
Elvish...Tanis...  
  
Kitiara scowled darkly, picked up her ale mug, and flung it against the wall. It shattered into tiny pieces that scattered across the floor; the ale that had been in it left a dark stain upon the brick wall. Her boots crunched on the broken pottery as Kitiara left the tavern in a dark fury.  
  
End of Chapter One  
  
My first ever DragonLance fic. Kitiara's memory is from The Soulforge. Also, when Beleg talks about Raistlin killing Caramon twice, he's referring to the Test and to the dream of Silvanesti (technically, Raistlin left Caramon to die then.). Please review and tell me what you think! 


	2. Chapter II

Disclaimer: I do not own DragonLance or any of the characters. Only in my dreams do I own Raist and Dal.  
  
Cold Blood  
Chapter Two  
  
Dalamar's soft footfalls echoed off the walls and vast ceiling of the stone corridor. Torches that sat in brackets along the wall threw dancing shadows across the dark elf's face. Stopping to face the large, oaken doors, Dalamar drew in a deep breathe and cast spells of protection over himself. Then he pushed open the doors to Raistlin's study.  
  
Raistlin Majere sat, hunched over, at his large, wooden desk. The Staff of Magius leaned against the wall to his left, within easy reach of his hand. His pre-mature, snow-white hair fell across his face so Dalamar couldn't see it. The book Raistlin was intently studying seemed old and dusty to the apprentice, but any mage could feel the power that radiated out from it.  
  
Dalamar stood uneasily in front of the desk. Raistlin had not even looked up when Dalamar had opened and closed the doors. The elf assumed his Shalafi was so deep in his studies that he was unaware of his surroundings.  
  
"You called for me, Shalafi?"  
  
Raistlin slowly lifted his head; he hadn't started, so Dalamar assumed that Raistlin had known he was there the whole time. The golden skin of the master mage glinted in the firelight as his hourglass eyes met the dark eyes of his apprentice.  
  
As though on cue, Dalamar's chest throbbed once with pain. He subconsciously rubbed at it as he lowered his gaze first. The wounds his master had inflicted upon him had long since healed, scar tissue closing them, though he still had five dents in his chest; any healing spell Dalamar knew was not enough to completely smooth over the injuries.  
  
"I did." Raistlin rose and walked along the long row of bookshelves, trailing his fingers over the volumes, disturbing the dust as he passed. His golden skin shone in the dying sunlight that filtered lazily through the one window in his study. Dalamar could see the city of Palanthas laid out before it. Drawing his eyes from the city, Dalamar looked back to his master.  
  
Stopping, Raistlin pulled out a large black-bound book off a shelf. The book had an aura of power greater than the other books, Dalamar noticed.  
  
"This, my apprentice, is the spell-book of Fistandilatus that was recovered from Xak Tsaroth," the golden-skinned mage explained slowly as he laid the book upon his desk. "I have gone over it again to find some ..... interesting ... side-notes."  
  
Dalamar stared at the ancient book. Fistandilatus had been one of the strongest Black Robe mages in the history of Krynn and had lived before the Cataclysm. He had heard that his Shalafi had taken the book from the lair of a dragon that had lived in the city that had fallen when the fiery mountain had struck the world. Dalamar listened more intently; his Shalafi might reveal something important...  
  
"You and I, apprentice, wear the black robes of Nuitari, the god of black magic, the son of the Dark Queen. The only reminder of his on this world is the third moon that hangs in the night sky. But once, long ago, he, Solinari, and Lunitari once walked this earth.  
  
"It was long, long ago, centuries before the Cataclysm. They journeyed among the mortals in disguise, gathering spells and power to create the basis of our magic today, and to found our orders."  
  
"Shalafi, I have not heard of this before-"  
  
"Of course not. It is not well-known. Most think of it to be a legend, a myth.  
  
"But all legends must have some truth. Apparently, Fistandilatus shared this opinion and did some research. Not much, but enough to guide me."  
  
"Guide you...?" Dalamar's eyebrows grew together in confusion. It was all new, yes, but he had no trouble understanding most of it, if not all of it. Dalamar did have a few doubts that the gods walked the face of Krynn once, even if it had been before the Cataclysm. Wouldn't it have been more well-known? Though, if the gods had disguised themselves...nobody really liked mages then, anyway. Maybe that's why it was so...Whatever the case, his Shalafi seemed to believe it.  
  
"Yes, Dalamar, to guide me. You see, each of the gods made a spell- book of the magics they chartered. You can only imagine what power lies inside those books."  
  
Raistlin's plan slowly dawned on Dalamar. "Y-you mean to find the spell-book of Nuitari?" he asked, stepping back just a little. Raistlin nodded slightly, gathered up Fistandilatus's spell-book, and replaced it on the shelf, before going to stand in the dying light of the window.  
  
Dalamar remained where he was, trying to get his spinning thoughts straightened. His Shalafi was planning on going after the spell-book of Nuitari, an artifact that might not even exist. How would he even know where to search? This was impossible. Even if the book existed, it had to be guarded by the dark god himself. Raistlin was powerful, but was he powerful enough to take on the god of his own Order?  
  
Dalamar opened his mouth and started to speak, but Raistlin's golden gaze fixed on him first. It was as if he knew Dalamar's thoughts and was challenging him to say them. Dalamar's chest throbbed again as if in reminder of the time he had challenged his Shalafi. He slowly shut his mouth and Raistlin nodded.  
  
"Remember well what you heard, so Par-Salian may have every detail." Raistlin's lips twitched slightly in a sardonic smile. "You are dismissed, apprentice."  
  
Before Dalamar could move, he was standing outside the large, oaken doors of the study with no memory of how he had got there.  
  
End of Chapter Two  
  
I updated! Yay! I hope I'm keeping everyone in character. (I have this strange urge to make Raistlin do something stupid/funny since he's so serious all the time.) I have started the third chapter and should have it up quickly. And it will have more action in it. Yippee! (I don't like writing chapters where all they do is talk and explain stuff. Maybe it's too much like school.) Pleeaaaasse review for me. 


	3. Chapter III

Disclaimer: I do not own DragonLance or any of its characters. I have thirty dollars, but I don't think that's near enough to buy Raistlin and Dalamar.  
  
Cold Blood  
Chapter Three  
  
Kitiara lay on her back in her cot. The thin walls of her commander's tent didn't block the noise of her dragon-army. Raucous laughter, the creak of armor, metal upon metal, raised voices, and the crackling of fire drifted in. However, Kitiara was deep in her thoughts and barely noticed the noise.  
  
Raistlin...how to kill him? He was probably one of the hardest men to kill upon Krynn. He has to be, Kitiara mused, if all the sickness hasn't killed him yet.  
  
Raistlin also sat inside one of the best guarded buildings in all of Ansalon. A flying citadel would be easier for her to get into than the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas. The Shoikan Grove would hardly allow her passage and she knew Skie wouldn't fly directly into the courtyard. Too much evil miasma. Damn it, Kit thought as she turned onto her side. Beleg just couldn't target anyone weaker, could he?  
  
The tendrils of cold air were what first alerted Kitiara to his presence. She shivered and sat up, slowly turning around and meeting the glowing eyes of Lord Soth.  
  
The Death Knight stood near the wooden table that was littered with maps of all sorts, fingering the blade of his dagger. His blackened armor with a carved black rose glistened in the dancing light of the lantern. His cold aura filled the tent, but Kitiara didn't care. She was used to it by now.  
  
"Lord Soth," Kit greeted. She swung her legs over the cot and returned his gaze. With a quick flick of her eye, she located her sword before bringing her eyes back to his. She doubted she'd need it; Soth needed her to help break the curse. If he did attack though, Kit thought, what would a mortal blade be able to do against a Death Knight?  
  
"Strategizing?" he asked, his voice void of emotion as usual. "Planning a way to get out of Sanction?"  
  
"Strategizing, yes. To get out of Sanction, no," she replied. She languidly stretched, arching her back. Shifting herself to a more comfortable position, she continued. "A job was proposed to me. I decided to take it."  
  
"I didn't know you accepted the work of a sell-sword," Soth commented. His fingers ran up and down along the blade of the dagger.  
  
"No, not usually," Kitiara agreed. "But this proposition intrigued me." She told him about her meeting with Beleg. Soth remained silent, his eyes flickering only once at the mention of Raistlin's name.  
  
"A formidable task," he said, nodding slightly. "Especially for one with no capacity for magic."  
  
"Yes. I need one with magical abilities." Kit smiled mischievously as she continued, "That's where you come in."  
  
_  
  
Dalamar sat in the hard, straight-back chair, leaning over the spell- book on the desk. The thick candles that lined the walls of his chamber burned brightly with flickering light. His eyebrows drew together in his concentration as he worked on memorizing the spells and committing them to memory, so they would come readily when he needed them.  
  
He spared a quick glance for the window slit above his head. The sky was darkening and the stars were just beginning to appear. Dalamar sighed, shut the book, stood, and stretched. He listened to his spine creak before leaning down to grab his bag. It was then the sensation hit him.  
  
_  
  
Lord Soth shimmered into existence near the fireplace of the study, behind the great wooden desk. Raistlin's unprotected back was to him. Soth slowly un-sheathed his dagger with as little noise as possible. The arch-mage did not move.  
  
Nor did he move as the Death Knight approached him. Soth halted, close enough to the mage to reach out and touch him. Still Raistlin did not move. What's wrong? Soth thought furiously. He hasn't moved even though I'm so close! Does he not even realize I'm here? Is he sleeping or, perhaps, his illness has finally overtaken him?  
  
Lord Soth shook his head and cleared his mind. What was he waiting for? Now was the time to strike. Soth raised his dagger and was about to swing down...  
  
_  
  
Dalamar hurtled down the stone stairs. Somewhere...somewhere in the Tower, an uninvited guest had arrived. But how could any intruder enter? The Tower is guarded against any living thing, Dalamar reminded himself. How did the intruder get in?  
  
Dalamar stopped as he reached the landing. Shalafi. He needed to find Raistlin, who was most likely still in the study. Raistlin would probably already know of the break-in. But Dalamar still couldn't shake the feeling of urgency as he ran down the stairs to the next floor.  
  
Then the wave of power ran over him.  
  
_  
  
Lord Soth couldn't move. His muscles were paralyzed. The dagger hovered mere inches from the arch-mage's back. An incredible power was beating down on him from all sides.  
  
Blasted mage! Soth cursed. He knew I was here all along! The Death Knight threw up his own defenses around him to try and knock away Raistlin's power. He was holding it off, though barely.  
  
Raistlin rose slowly, shifting a little to the left to avoid the dagger. He faced Lord Soth, locking the Death Knight's fiery gaze with his own hourglass one. The two battled on with their energy.  
  
A tickling sensation moved up Raistlin's throat, making his eyes water. He fought to keep the coughing fit down. He couldn't afford one now. His concentration was now divided between Lord Soth and keeping down his cough.  
  
Soth could feel Raistlin's power wavering. He attacked with more force than he had been using previously. Raistlin was faltering. Soon, he would fall...  
  
Another power slammed against Soth's. A weaker power, but sudden enough to throw him off. The Death Knight whirled his head around to see an elf, panting, standing in the doorway.  
  
Soth's hesitation at Dalamar's appearance gave Raistlin just enough time to recover. The arch-mage focused fully on the undead being and once more assaulted him with as much power as he could conjure.  
  
Soth's barrier cracked and both powers rushed in on him. His voice rose in an unholy cry before he disappeared, only to reappear in Kitiara's tent, crumpled into a heap on the ground and panting.  
  
End of Chapter Three  
  
Well, it took awhile, but I finally got the chapter up. Thank you for all the good reviews you've been sending in. Now, if you would be so kind, please review again by clicking that little blue button down there. 


	4. Chapter IV

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own DragonLance or any of its characters. I just read the books.  
  
Cold Blood  
Chapter Four  
  
Dalamar sat on the edge of the stone fountain of the Tower of Wayreth. He had arrived early and the Conclave was not yet assembled. This suited him fine. He still needed to straighten his thoughts about the Death Knight and what his Shalafi had told him...  
  
_  
  
"Shalafi...what...what was that?" Dalamar asked, striding into the study after Soth had disappeared, trying to look more energetic than he felt.  
  
"Lord Soth." Raistlin leaned against the Staff of Magius and coughed. Once the coughing subsided and he had wiped the blood from his lips, Raistlin continued. "A Death Knight, who is loyal to my sister...Or so they say."  
  
Dalamar decided to ignore the last part of Raistlin's statement. "But...but why would your sister send a Death Knight to kill you?"  
  
"Kill me?" Raistlin chuckled dryly. "No, apprentice, he wasn't sent here to murder me. My sister always liked to be in control, to have Caramon and I held tightly in her fist. She probably sent him here to frighten me. To "remind me of my place". No doubt his dagger would have stopped just a mere hair's breadth from my back."  
  
Dalamar stood still, barely shaking as he tried to reign in the feeling of anxiety that was rearing up in him. Something didn't seem right with his Shalafi's explanation. "Then...if you knew that your death wasn't in his intent, then why did you strike back against him?"  
  
Raistlin sighed. The irritation in it was obvious. "I did it to show my sister that while she has dragons, hordes of men, and a Death Knight under her sway, she does not have me. I do not answer to her and I never will."  
  
Raistlin swept past his shocked apprentice and out the door. Dalamar shivered and went over once again what his master had told him. Then he remembered that he was expected somewhere. But Dalamar could not shake the feeling that Lord Soth had been after something more than frightening Raistlin.  
  
_  
  
Dalamar trailed his fingers over the calm surface of the fountain's water and frowned. He knew he should believe his Shalafi's explanation without question, but he couldn't help it. But he didn't know what he could possibly do about it anyway.  
  
Dalamar jumped as he felt something tap him on the shoulder. He turned his head to see a floating, disembodied hand hovering near him. It beckoned to him, floated a short distance away, and beckoned again. Dalamar smiled to himself and followed after the hand. It was time for his report.  
  
After traveling up many floors, Dalamar arrived at the large double doors that led to the Conclave. He bowed curtly to the hand. It waved its fingers at him then disappeared. The elf then turned to the doors and threw them open to reveal the chamber on the other side and the representatives of all three Robes. Dalamar came to stand before Par- Salian. He bowed and the arch-mage inclined his head in return.  
  
"Dalamar," Par-Salian said. "What news of Raistlin and of his workings?"  
  
"Par-Salian," Dalamar returned. 'Since I last came here, nothing of interest has happened. That was the case...until tonight. Just tonight, my Shalafi told me of a plan he is about to hatch."  
  
"Plan?" Par-Salian's brow furrowed as he frowned. "What is this 'plan'?"  
  
Dalamar smiled inwardly to himself. "Using information from Fistandilatus and of his own findings, my Shalafi plans to search for the spell-book of Nuitari."  
  
This news brought forth many different reactions from the Conclave. Black-robed mages were furiously whispering among one another; the White Robes were looking horror-struck. Those of the order of the Red Robes were glancing at each other. One lone figure on Par-Salian's right stood and faced Dalamar.  
  
"Impossible!" Justarious barked. His face was twisted into a scowl. He glared down his nose at the dark elf before him. "If your master is referring to that old myth about the gods of magic-"  
  
"He is," Dalamar said coldly, cutting off Justarious. "If he and Fistandilatus, the greatest mages to ever learn magic, believe it to be true, then so do I."  
  
What happened next, Dalamar was sure was just a trick of the light played upon his eyes. For the smallest of moments, it seemed as if Justarious was smiling. Dalamar blinked and it was gone. Par-Salian rested his hand on the Red-robed mage's arm and Justarious sat back down with an irritated grunt. Dalamar shook his head to clear the image out.  
  
"Is something wrong, Dalamar Nightson?" Par-Salian inquired.  
  
"No, no." The elf switched his gaze back to the old arch-mage. "I am just fine, thank you."  
  
Ladonna leaned forward in her chair. "And what about yourself, Dalamar? Do you plan to follow Raistlin on this crazy scheme of his? You're a talented mage. I'd hate to lose you."  
  
Dalamar smiled sardonically. "As a matter of fact, I do plan to accompany my Shalafi. And I have no intention of dying. I have complete faith in my Shalafi and in my own skills."  
  
Ladonna returned Dalamar's smile sadly. "This...is your decision then?"  
  
"It is."  
  
"So be it." She leaned back in her chair and regarded him closely. "Your master doesn't worry for his tower?"  
  
"The Tower will be guarded by creatures who are commanded to let no one enter." Dalamar leveled his gaze and stared meaningfully at Par- Salian. "They will let no one enter the Tower while we are gone."  
  
Par-Salian raised his hand in a peaceful gesture. "I understand. If that is all you have to report, then you may be dismissed."  
  
Dalamar started to turn, then abruptly stopped. Images floated unbidden into his mind. Blackened armor; a dagger falling toward Raistlin's unprotected back... "No." Dalamar turned back to face the Conclave. "No. That is not all that I have to report."  
  
The Conclave listened intently as Dalamar told the story of Lord Soth entering the Tower of Palanthas. When he finished, many glances were exchanged between the mages before him. Par-Salian met Dalamar's eyes squarely. "You believe that this was an attempt upon your Shalafi's life?"  
  
"...Yes." Dalamar knew he should accept Raistlin's explanation of what happened. He knew he should. But he couldn't. The feeling that there was something more to it kept gnawing at him.  
  
"But it is very likely that Raistlin has it correct," Ladonna countered.  
  
Dalamar opened his mouth to reply when Justarious spoke up. "But, then again, maybe Dalamar is right. It could easily be either one. We don't know which is the truth. So this is what I propose: we do nothing."  
  
"What?" Dalamar and Par-Salian asked in unison. Both stared at Justarious.  
  
Justarious's lips twitched in a slight smile. "Why waste our time if it isn't an assignation attempt? But if it is true, that Lord Soth was in fact trying to kill Raistlin, he will undoubtedly try again."  
  
"Then what will you do?" Dalamar shouted. He felt angry and frustrated. His Shalafi's life was in question and not one of them cared!  
  
"Nothing. If he dies, that will take away one of the largest worries that is set upon our shoulders."  
  
Ladonna slowly spoke up. "He has become quite a problem...Maybe it is for the best."  
  
Par-Salian looked from Justarious to Ladonna. Dalamar couldn't read his expression. It seemed to him that the arch-mage was torn; to protect Raistlin or let him die. Par-Salian looked down at his laced fingers. "Is this the will of the Conclave?" he asked finally.  
  
A chorus of agreement rang from all three orders, only a few remaining silent. Justarious's voice was among the loudest. Par-Salian sighed and looked up at the elf in front of him. "There is our answer, Dalamar Nightson. You are dismissed." There was a note of finality in his voice.  
  
For a moment, Dalamar couldn't move. His frustration threatened to spill out from him. He took a deep breathe and held his emotions inside as he learned in his days as a servitor. He turned on his heel and strode out of the chamber, black robes flying behind him. Once outside, Dalamar slammed the doors shut with all his strength borne out of anger.  
  
End of Chapter Four  
  
I updated! HaHA!! I know, I took forever. I thank you all who reviewed!! I've been receiving such good ones and its blowing my mind right now! Please review again for this chapter!  
(To Dalamar Nightson (in response to her review): Um, yeah, about Dal's wounds...^^' To tell you the truth, I started writing this before I even finished "Time of the Twins". So I plead ignorance for that chapter. I wrote it before I read "War of the Twins" and found out that his wounds are ever-bleeding and can't be healed. However, I have now finished the whole Legends trilogy. Please forgive me!) 


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